Yesterday I skipped my workout, because my right knee was achey. Feels perfectly fine today -- maybe it was the weather, or maybe I slept on it funny.
There are chocolate chip Pop Tarts instead of low-fat animal crackers in the vending machine now. That's why everybody's fat, you guys. They're making us fat. Whom do we sue? At least when you find a chicken head in your nuggets, the answer is clear.
It looks like all the Buick Grand Nationals come out in the fall. Cold, dry air complements a turbocharger nicely, I guess. I've seen three in the past week.
Work is picking up, in a comfortable way. My mentor is pleased with my m4d ph47 c311 cu17ur3 s>|1llz. I haven't had trouble getting in on time, either. It's nice to feel motivated enough to respond to the alarm clock.
I'm calling the fuckers at the Sentry Lincoln Mercury of Medford body shop right now. They've had the Civic for what -- three weeks now?
I got voicemail. I think they're afraid of me. I left a mild yet slightly grumpy message.